Camper Adventures: Exploring the Fundy Coast

Our second camper road trip this summer took us to the other side of the Nova Scotia, where we explored the Fundy coast from Windsor to Advocate Harbour. It's a part of the province we hadn't visited in decades so we were curious to see what had changed since we'd last been there. 

Our first stop was in Cheverie, where we paused to have lunch and visit a camera obscura we'd heard about. The camera was built by Dalhousie Architecture students nearly a decade ago and is still in good condition. You can can read more about how and why it was built here. There are trails behind the site but we were on a mission to reach Burntcoat Head while the tide was low so didn't take time to explore them. 

Our next stop was Walton, where we couldn't resist a brief detour to check out the lighthouse and learn a little history of the area. Walton may be a tiny place now but it has an impressive mining, shipbuilding and transportation past that's well worth taking some time to learn about. 

After that, we were off to Burntcoat Head Provincial Park. I'd been wanting to visit for some time, and we arrived in plenty of time to explore the ocean floor. The tides at Burntcoat Head are some of the highest and fastest in the world, so staff are stationed beside the stairs leading to the beach to ensure visitors know what time they need to hightail it to higher ground to be out of harm's way. 

The force of the water rising and falling so quickly has made for some truly remarkable coastline along this part of the Fundy.

By the time we left the park, we needed to start looking for a spot to camp for the night. There weren't a lot of options. All the campgrounds along the way were fully booked so we paused in a parking lot next to the Lawrence House Museum in Maitland to cook and eat supper.

The museum was closed and the parking lot had a terrific view so we'd have liked to spend the night there but signs warned us overnight parking wasn't permitted so we headed a little further up the road and found a less picturesque but quiet spot beside what looked to be a seldom used public tennis court. 

Before sunset, we took in views from a newly refurbished public pier nearby and wandered into the village to marvel at the beautiful old buildings at its core. Most were in need of significant repair but it was still easy to tell Maitland had been a prosperous place at one time.

Our sleep that night would have been peaceful if we hadn't made the mistake of parking next to a marsh. We didn't realize the camper wasn't totally mosquito-proof so spent a good part of the night chasing and killing dozens of the little blighters. 

From Maitland, we made a beeline for the far shore, by-passing the regional hub of Truro. Our first stop after Truro was Great Village, where we found a spot near the river to have lunch and walk Jackie. Then it was off to Bass River and the Dominion Chair General Store, where we purchased duct tape to seal a couple of small holes in our ceiling vents, which is where the mosquitos had gained entry. 

When we last visited Bass Village 25 or more years ago, Dominion Chair Company was in full operation and a go-to place for folks wanting to purchase high quality tables and chairs. Those days are over, but the general store is still a fun place to explore if you're in the area. 

From Bass River, we continued along the coast to Economy, where we stopped at the Cliffs of Fundy Geosite Welcome Centre to pick up maps and information about the geological significance of the Fundy coastline. We only had time to visit a view of the designated sites comprising the geopark, but look forward to exploring more of them on our next trip.

Our base while we visited the area was Five Islands Provincial Park - a beautiful and well-maintained campground with fantastic views. Our first night - a Tuesday - was spent on a site near the top of the park, where we were mostly surrounded by trees and had only limited views, but we were lucky enough to snag a site with more impressive views for our remaining nights, when folks in a tent trailer checked out early to avoid getting caught in the rain. Fortunately, the skies stayed clear for most of our next two days on the site - though it was raining hard by the time we headed home on Friday.

Wednesday morning, we were up early and headed for Cape d'Or, which I'd been wanting to visit since seeing friends' photos of the place. It didn't disappoint. The road to the parking area situated high above the lighthouse was a bit of adventure at times but well worth it. We hiked down to the lighthouse and spent an hour or more exploring, with mostly just seagulls for company. 

In normal years, the cottages behind the lighthouse house a restaurant and AirBnB but, due to covid-19 restrictions, neither was operational while we were there. 

After hiking back up to the parking area, we ate lunch overlooking the Fundy, then explored a trail along the top of the cliff, before heading into Advocate Harbour for a quick look around. 

There's a wonderful restaurant in Advocate Harbour called Wild Caraway, where we hoped to have a meal, but unfortunately it wasn't open the day we were there. It's on our list for next time. 

En route back to Five Islands, we stumbled on at a place I'd never heard of, Spencer's Island - a tiny community that was home to a substantial shipyard a generation or two ago. There's not much there now but a small cluster of mostly seasonal homes, a private campground perched where the shipyard used to operate, and a large stoney beach perfect for walking. Apparently, those familiar with NS's sailing past know it as the birthplace of the Mary Celeste, a ship with a tragic and spooky history. A marker beside the water outlines her story.

There are a few public parking spots just beside the beach

We arrived back at our campsite in time to take in a fabulous sunset before tucking in for the night. I took a lot of photos that evening but these are two of my favourites.

Thursday morning, we were up early to drive into Parrsboro, where we ate breakfast by the beach then headed out to explore various sites of interest nearby.

A morning view from our campsite

Our first stop was Ottawa House Museum. The house has a long and storied history but it's best known as the summer home of a former Prime Minister, Sir Charles Tupper - quite a fascinating character, as it turns out. The museum, operated by the local historical society, is jam-packed with fascinating (if somewhat chaotically displayed) artifacts and memorabilia so we enjoyed spending an hour or so exploring it.

The parking lot at the museum had awesome views too!
Too bad overnight parking was prohibited. 

Just up the beach from Ottawa House is Partridge Island, a site of particular geological and historical significance for local indigenous and settler communities. An eco hiking trail up and across the Island offered some spectacular views, as well as an introduction to the island's history.

As we hiked the beach towards Patridge Island, we were fortunate to witness Glooscap's grandmother's cooking pot in action. Apparently, as the tide comes in, air trapped in porous rocks beneath the water's surface is released to create a long strip of what looks like boiling water along the beach.

After our hike, we drove a little further down the shore to the Fundy Ocean Research Centre for Energy (FORCE), where we stopped for a bite of lunch, then visited the centre's permanent exhibits, which provide an overview of efforts to develop tidal energy technologies that are robust enough to operate reliably in the fierce waters of the Bay of Fundy. Storm clouds were beginning to form by then, which made for some dramatic views from the centre's grounds. 

Cape Split, shot with my long lens

We made it back to Five Islands just before dusk. With a major storm approaching, we realized it was likely our last opportunity to visit Lighthouse Park. Undeterred by thick clouds of mosquitos, Husband took Jackie for a last walk while I madly attempted to capture a few shots of the amazing light

Clam diggers working quickly ahead of the storm

Back at our campsite, we savoured one last sunset over the bay before tucking in for the night.  

As I've already mentioned, it was raining hard by the time we hit the road for home Friday morning so we only stopped briefly a couple of times and I didn't bother trying to take photos. 

I hope we'll return to the Fundy again soon. There's lots worth seeing that we didn't have time for on this trip, and we'd love to explore more of the geo-sites that make the area so unique. 

Running lessons: Wishing don't make it so

Week 2 of my "Return to Running" hasn't gone well. As I hoped when I wrote my last post, I made it out for a longish 7k run last Sunday evening after Husband arrived home - when the rain finally stopped and the sun came out in time for trick-or-treating.  I enjoyed crossing paths with costumed kids wandering the streets - obviously happy the rain had let up in time for Halloween. It was warm enough that they didn't even need a layer of warm clothes under their outfits. 

Unfortunately, running opportunities were few and far between the rest of the week. Monday morning, we loaded the camper for one last adventure and headed up the coast towards Halifax, following the old #3 Highway much of the way, with short detours around the Aspotagan Peninsula and out to Peggy's Cove and back. The weather couldn't have been better for November so we dawdled longer than planned at Peggy's Cove before heading into the city to spend the evening with friends. (The photo above was taken at Peggy's. There will be more images from that outing in a future post.)

After a late breakfast Tuesday morning, we spent a few hours tackling some long overdue shopping before heading home again. In theory, I should have run that evening but it was raining by the time we got back and I was tired from shopping so didn't have the energy.

The next two days were consumed by a visit with old friends, who travelled from Cape Breton to spend some time with us. I should have run Thursday afternoon or Friday, but wimped out again when temperatures dropped and the wind came up.

Finally, I got my butt out the door this afternoon. Then, because I'd run 7k last week, I decided to try running 8-9k - which is when I was reminded that "wishing don't make it so". I wish I was fit enough to run 8k with ease, but the truth is I haven't trained enough. In the end, I covered the distance but it wasn't pretty and I had to take more walk breaks than usual. Discouraging. 

But never mind. The forecast for the week ahead looks perfect for running so I'll have no excuses. I just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and trust the process. Before I know it, 8k will feel easy as pie. 

On my run today, I was thinking about how some of my oldest friendships have faded over the years, and how I sometimes wish I was able to revive them. Sadly, wishing don't make that so either. When long friendships end, it's mostly for reasons that can't be wished away. 

In a few cases, the friend and I simply grew in different directions until we were no longer comfortable with one another. In others, stuff happened that was difficult to understand or forgive. In still others, I came to understand we were never really friends in the first place - that my "friend" saw me as little more than a means to an end. 

The last was the hardest. No one likes feeling used. But the truth is there are people in the world who are so deeply narcissistic they only value others for what they can do for them. And, if I'm honest, my own tendency towards co-dependence has too often meant I'm attracted to such people.

I like to think I've finally reached a point in my life where I have the wisdom and self-awareness to mostly avoid such unhealthy relationships. But the truth is, they're not always easy to spot in the beginning, and, once in them, it can be hard to disengage.  

I hasten to add that I'm not saying friendships shouldn't involve work. They nearly always do - especially the ones that last longest. And I'm certainly not saying friends can't have differences. Very often, it's differences that make friendships most worthwhile. I'm only saying that, when a friendship becomes toxic for some reason, wishing it weren't is seldom enough to fix things. Whether it's fixable depends on whether the friends in question are truly interested in working together to put things right. 

In any case, as the philosopher Seneca said, "The comfort of having a friend may be taken away, but not that of having had one." As much as I may wish I hadn't lost some friends over the years, there's comfort in reminding myself that the sadness and loss I feel thinking about them is directly related to the special place they once held in my heart. 

Happy running!

Running lessons: Practicing patience

Week one of my "Return to Running" went reasonably well - at least, until this morning, when I awoke to torrential rain and couldn't quite persuade myself to suck it up and go running anyway, though I knew I'd probably enjoy it if I did. 

The forecast says the rain should let up around suppertime so I'm hoping to hit the road later, but it may not happen. Husband's been away visiting family in Ontario for the better part of two weeks and is due to arrive home any minute now. I won't want to head out for a run too soon after he gets in, but may be able to squeeze in 5 or 6 kms before supper. If not, I'll do it tomorrow morning instead.

None of my runs this week felt great but that's to be expected. Each time I started to feel discouraged, I reminded myself to "practice my patience", as my nephew used to say. Experience has taught me that even a few weeks of regular training make running feel more natural. I just need to be patient and trust the process.

In other news, the wind and rain over the past week brought down most of the remaining leaves, though there are still occasional splashes of colour to be savoured along the way. And I love the dry swish and scent of fallen leaves almost as much. Autumn really is the best time of year for running.

Here's another image from our visit to Keji a couple of weeks ago. Next October, I'd like to spend a week there exploring the park's wonderful network of trails. It's a spectacular spot. 

Running lessons: Hold on to hope

In the face of the ugly spectacle unfolding south of the border, not to mention news that climate change is happening faster than anyone predicted and species are going extinct at unprecedented rates, I find it hard to be optimistic these days. I hope I'm wrong but my gut tells me we'll be facing some pretty grim realities in as little as a decade or two. The track we're currently on leads leads more or less directly to an Atwood-esque dystopia.

On the days I feel most pessimistic, I remind myself that - as my dear father-in-law often said - "despair is a sin". Positive change can only happen when people have enough optimism to take action. Put another way, people need to believe positive change is possible to make it happen.

But too much optimism can be a problem too - at least when it becomes an excuse for inaction. Maybe humankind will find solutions for the serious environmental challenges facing us but that doesn't mean we shouldn't each be doing what we can now to walk more lightly on the planet. 

I get why some people don't see it that way. After all, many of us are at a point in our lives where we only expect to live 15-20 years anyway so we don't see ourselves at significant personal risk. But what about younger people? You know, our kids and grand-kids? How will we justify our actions to them in a few years. "Yes, I know I didn't need to drive a series of ridiculous gas-guzzling vehicles, or fly halfway round the world for a vacations, or buy the newest versions of everything, but I worked hard to have those things and I deserve them."

"Deserve". How I hate that word. It appears in my Facebook newsfeed regularly as friends encourage one another to be self-indulgent. "Glad you're having such a great vacation, honey. You deserve it. Of course you should have that snazzy new car. You deserve it." Really? Last time I checked, "deserve" meant you'd done something to earn what you have. The reality is that most of what we Canadians enjoy we got just by being lucky enough to be born in the right place and time. If we'd been born in India or Nigeria or Papua New Guinea instead, chances are our lives would be very different.

No, I don't think the next generation is going to be too impressed with our assertions that we "deserved" to ignore the health of the environment and future generations to satisfy our horrifying addiction to over-consumption.

I know I sound angry. I am angry. And discouraged. There's a big part of me that sometimes wishes we humans wipe ourselves out sooner rather than later so that other creatures on this planet have a fighting chance to survive whatever awaits. In my darkest moments, I wonder why I don't just belly up to the trough myself and take what I can before all is lost.

I don't because I know that, if and when the worst happens, I want to be able to look into my nieces and nephews' eyes and tell them I did what I could to prevent it - that I valued their lives and futures as much as my own. Call me naive, but I think it's the least I can do. 

How does that relate to running and hope, you ask? Well, as dark and depressing as my thoughts are some days, I know the only way through is to hold on to hope - the kind of hope that energizes me to pay attention, believe better is possible, and work for change. Running helps with that by getting me out of my head and into the natural world, where I'm regularly reminded of the wondrous beauty and diversity of this little blue planet and the critters - including we humans - that inhabit it. They (we) truly are worth fighting for. 

The photos I've included in this post are from a recent outing to Kejimkujik Park - a good place to be reminded of just how beautiful our planet still is - particularly in autumn.